e and I have agreed.

Next, he fully explained to me the importance of the Bulair Lines and
urged me to throw the new Divisions against them. He seems to think he
is mooting to me a spick and span new idea--that he has invented
something. Finally, he suggests ten shillings and a free pardon be
offered to every Turk who deserts to our lines with his rifle and kit:
he believes we should thus get rid of the whole of the enemy army very
quickly.

This makes one wonder what would Ashmead-Bartlett himself do if he were
offered ten shillings and a good supper by a Mahommedan when he was
feeling a bit hungry and hard up amongst the Christians. Anyway, there
is no type of soldier man fighting in the war who is more faithful to
his salt than the Osmanli Turk. Were we to offer fifty pounds per head,
instead of ten shillings, the bid would rebound in shame upon ourselves.

Colonel Sir Mark Sykes was my next visitor. He is fulfilling the promise
of his 'teens when he was the shining light of the Militia; was as keen
a Galloper as I have had on a list which includes Winston and F.E., and,
generally, gained much glory, martial, equestrian, histrionic,
terpsichorean at our Militia Training Camp on Salisbury Plain in '99.
Now he has mysteriously made himself (heaven knows how) into our premier
authority on the Middle East and is travelling on some ultra-mysterious
mission, very likely, _en passant_, as a critic of our doings: never
mind, he is thrice welcome as a large-hearted and generous person.

Dined with de Robeck on board the _Triad_. He is _most_ hospitable and
kind. I have not here the wherewithal to give back cutlet for cutlet,
worse luck.

_26th June, 1915._ Worked till past 11 o'clock, then started
for Anzac with Braithwaite per destroyer _Pincher_ (Lieutenant-Commander
Wyld). After going a short way was shifted to the _Mosquito_
(Lieutenant-Commander Clarke). We had biscuits in our pockets, but the
hospitable Navy stood us lunch.

When the Turks saw a destroyer come bustling up at an unusual hour they
said to themselves, "fee faw fum!" and began to raise pillars of water
here and there over the surface of the cove. As we got within a few
yards of the pier a shell hit it, knocking off some splinters. I jumped
on to it--had to--then jumped off it nippier still and, turning to the
right, began to walk towards Birdie's dugout. As I did so a big fellow
pitched plunk into the soft shingle between land and water about five or